Plunge
by Cordria
Summary: Sequel to 'Masks'. Now that Lancer has learned the truth and has let Danny out of his office, Danny needs to face the next hurdle: his parents.
1. Chapter 1

_The long anticipated, death-threat driven sequel to 'Masks'. _

_To summarize the previous story: Lancer locked Danny in his office, refusing to let him leave until Danny told him the truth about what was going on. The teenager, or course, refused… until he mistakenly came to the conclusion that Lancer had figured everything out. He then came clean about Phantom, to his teacher's disbelief, and now needs to figure out what to say to his parents._

_--_

**Plunge**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

--

--_4:31pm_

"You have to tell them."

The Nasty Burger was bustling with life, but the area around the table populated by Danny Fenton and his teacher was almost supernaturally quiet. Danny slouched a bit farther down in his chair and mopped up a few lost salt crystals off his tray with a finger. "I know, I know," he muttered.

Edward Lancer nodded, picking at the fries on his tray that had gone cold hours previously. "I'm sorry, Daniel. I just can't think of a way…"

The teenager kicked at a table leg, his stomach twisting painfully, threatening to let him see his lunch for a second time. "They're never going to be the same," he whispered.

"I know you don't want things to change," Lancer said, "but they have to. You can't handle everything without some outside help." He was silent for a moment. "Everything changes, Daniel. That's the nature of life."

Danny swallowed heavily and didn't answer. The two of them had already been over this at least a half-dozen times in the four hours they had been sitting at this table. Every plan, every excuse, every attempt to try to prevent what was about to happen had come up empty. His teacher had methodically sunk every one of his arguments with devastating and unerring force.

The worst part of the whole deal was the fact that Danny really didn't care about what would happen to himself when he told his family that he was Phantom. He was pretty sure they would accept him and even try to help; he'd be just fine. It was his parents that he was worried about. Both of them would never be able to forgive themselves for what they'd done to him, even if they didn't know it was him.

He could tick the issues off on his fingers without any trouble: death threats, shooting at him, trapping him, hunting him, not knowing who he was, not noticing his problems, not figuring it out sooner, physically and mentally scarring him, plans to experiment on him… he ran out of fingers and stumbled to a depressed halt in his mind.

No, they would never be able to forgive what _they_ had done to him. It would hurt them, slice them open from the inside out, kill them just as effectively as his alternate-future self had. He would lose them – if not physically, then mentally.

He had to admit that there weren't many other options. Now that Lancer knew his secret, his family would have to know. There just wasn't any other way to explain why Lancer had let him leave the school. If only he hadn't jumped the gun and essentially _told _Lancer that he was Phantom, there could have been other ways to handle this. His secret might have still been a secret.

A hand tracked up to the back of his neck and started to slowly massage the tight muscles, still trying to come to grips with what he was about to do. Although he didn't blame the overweight teacher for the situation he'd found himself in, he still felt a small trickle of resentment. The whole 'trap him at school' idea had come from Lancer's mind. In the end, though, it boiled down to the fact that his parents had simply wanted to know what was wrong with him. Now they were going to find out.

"Could you tell them for me?" he asked, looking up hopefully even though he already knew the answer.

Lancer shook his head. "I'll be there just in case something goes wrong, Danny, but you need to be the one to tell them."

He breathed out slowly. "Yeah. I know." They'd been over this before. They'd gone through _everything_ already.

"You want something to eat before we leave?"

Danny shook his head, scrambling to find a way to postpone the inevitable. "What am I going to say again?"

--

--_5:07pm_

Danny curled his fingers around the bottom of his shirt, twisting the material until it was bound painfully around his fingers, his eyes tracing the cracks in the dashboard of his teacher's car. "I just don't…" he trailed off as the car shuddered into silence, then glanced over at his teacher.

Edward Lancer pulled his keys out of the ignition and leaned forwards on the steering wheel, glancing once at Danny before looking out the windshield. FentonWorks was glowing in the late afternoon sun. To Danny, the house seemed to loom large and oppressive. Inside, both of them knew, his parents were going about their daily lives, probably inventing some new way to torture their son.

"Think of it like a band-aid," the teacher rumbled, arching an eyebrow. "Get it over with fast."

"Can't we just go back to school?" Danny asked softly. In so many ways, he couldn't wait to tell them but, in so many other ways, he wasn't ready to tell his parents just yet.

His teacher chuckled a little at the excuse, opening his car door and stepping out onto the sidewalk. "No. Out of the car, Daniel."

Danny spent a few precious moments extricating his fingers from the tangle of shirt he'd created and tried to ignore the impossible twisting of his stomach. Finally, unable to come up with any other ways to delay the unavoidable, Danny pushed open his car door and stepped onto the hot tar. He glanced down at his shoes, hoping for an untied shoelace, but there was no such luck. Throat dry, tongue feeling like it was the size of an elephant, he slipped around the car and stopped next to his teacher.

"You'll be fine, Danny," Lancer whispered, a hand touching his shoulder gently.

Running a hand through his hair, coming to rest at his neck, Danny stared at his home. If he were even half the ghost Clockwork was, he'd be able to stop time long enough to count all the bricks, delaying the inevitable for all eternity. No such time-stopping power was jumping to his fingertips, however. A gentle pressure on his back helped to start his feet moving up the short walk, stumbling a little on the front steps, drawing to stop only when the thick front door appeared before him. A hand appeared over his shoulder and Lancer reached up to ring the doorbell.

"It's my home, you don't have to ring the doorbell," Danny murmured to himself, but he didn't raise a hand to open the door himself. His hands seemed to have stopped working, a strange tingling feeling swamping his whole body. He was half-surprised that he hadn't gone intangible and fallen in the basement yet.

He felt his teacher's reassuring bulk behind him. "Just remember what we talked about. You'll be fine."

Danny took a deep breath and licked his dry lips, then the door was wrenched open. His mother, dressed in her normal blue jumpsuit, blinked a few times before a smile appeared on her face. "Danny," she breathed, relief evident in her voice. Her gaze shifted from her son to the teacher and she relaxed a little. "Come on in, sit down."

"Mom…" Danny's voice died when she looked at him. Her eyes were glowing brightly, full of love and happiness and brimming with the relief that the two of them were standing before her. She was looking at him as a mother does to her son... a look that Danny was convinced he'd never see again. From now on, her eyes would be tinged with sadness and regret and distrust. All of the emotions stirred around in his stomach ached for release as his gaze dropped to the floor. "I'm sorry."

Arms, warm and caring and soft, curled around him and pulled him close. "Danny, my baby boy, I love you," she whispered in his ear. "I don't care what you've done. We'll fix it."

Danny relaxed a little in her grip, but his heart skipped a painful beat. It wasn't so much what _he'd_ done that would drive the stake in between them. He knew that his mother would forgive all of his actions and lies in a heartbeat; that was what kind of person she was. It would be her _own _actions that she'd never be able to forgive or forget. "I love you too."

When she finally let go, he trailed close behind her to the couch. His teacher followed them and picked one of the chairs off to the side to collapse into. Danny sat down and rubbed at his arms anxiously. He wanted to get up and do something, run away, or pace, or fly, or something – do _anything_ but be right here, right now. Talking had never been his strong point anyways.

And she was waiting. Waiting to hear what horrible truths his teacher had managed to wrestle from his psyche. Waiting to hear about gangs or drugs or other things that would give her heart attacks from fear. _Think of it like a band-aid_. _Get it over with fast._

He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. "Where's Dad?" he asked softly, trying to say something that would chase away the impending conversation.

"He's coming," she answered as she sat down next to him, pulling him into a one-armed hug and giving him a smile and a light laugh. "You can stop looking like it's the end of the world. It's not that bad."

He leaned into her a little, trying to put his thoughts into order. Although Lancer and he had discussed this whole thing for hours, he still wasn't sure how to start. It was easier to explain to his teacher what had happened; his teacher wasn't his parents. His teacher would go home at the end of the day. "I…"

His dad suddenly bounded into the room, the bright orange jumpsuit almost glowing in the bright sunlight. "Danny!" he said, his voice a soft bellow, and he dropped into one of the open chairs. The normal, open, and friendly smile was on his face as he leaned forwards, his eyes glittering. "I'm putting the finishing touches on that new invention I was telling you about-" Danny's mother shot him a sharp look, making him trail off and grin sheepishly. "Right," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe later."

Danny couldn't help the small smile that drifted onto his lips, but the grin disappeared only instants later as his stomach gave a quiet lurch. Taking a deep, unsteady breath, he readied himself for what was about to happen. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. His mouth was too dry, his throat clenching tightly when he tried to speak.

A hand touched his knee, squeezing for just a moment, and he looked up into his mom's eyes. His heart beating loudly in his chest, his words escaping him, his breath rasping in his throat, he raised one hand up, holding it up for her inspection. He watched confusion appear in her eyes as she reached for his hand.

At the last moment he closed his eyes, feeling the cold tingle of the supernatural energy surging through his veins. He struggled for a moment, then willed the energy into existence around his hand. His mother suddenly tensed in surprise when his hand started to burn with an emerald light.

There was total silence for so long that Danny let his eyes slip open again. His mother's hand was still hovering inches from his, frozen with the shock of what she was seeing. He glanced up at her, ready to hear just about anything, his heart pounding in his ears as he waited for some sort of response.

She'd accept this; he knew that. It would take a minute, there would be questions and confusion and hurt over the lies, but she'd accept this. And, true to his thoughts, she slowly relaxed. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, looking at him with concern sparkling in her eyes.

Danny nodded and licked his lips. "I'm fine." He tried for a smile but he couldn't make the right muscles in his face work. "I'm not overshadowed or anything either."

"No, I didn't think so," she murmured, the arm still around his shoulders tightening for a moment in a short hug. "How are you doing that?"

Keeping the energy dancing around his hand, Danny gazed at the flickering green light. "Remember when I got shocked by the portal?" He didn't look up to see if either one of his parents had nodded. "I've been able to do this ever since then."

His father's fingers reached for his hand, but stopped a few inches away, the supernatural energy burning at his skin. "It doesn't hurt?" he asked.

Danny glanced at him, feeling a small piece of his nervousness disappear at the pure curiosity in his father's eyes. Shaking his head, he said, "It just feels cold."

"But…" his mother trailed off for a moment. "But why is _this_ something to hide from us? Why didn't you tell us?"

With no answer – because _this_ wasn't the issue – Danny was quiet for a moment. Then he looked up at his teacher, the only other person in the room who knew the real problem. Lancer didn't say anything, stubborn in his refusal to solve Danny's problem for him but steadfast in his promise to be there for him the entire time. A reassuring nod was all that the teacher was willing to give. Danny felt his heart beating loudly in his chest, wishing for a desperate moment that the teacher could just say it all for him, and he put his next words together.

_This _was the discussion he and his teacher had practiced at the Nasty Burger for all of those hours. Danny knew what to say and how to say it – now he just needed to spit it out. He licked his lips again and took a deep breath. "What if," he said slowly, "someone was hit with supernatural energy? What would happen?"

"It would dissipate," his father answered instantly. "A couple of hours – maybe a day – and it would be gone."

His mom continued quietly, her eyes fixed on his still-glowing hand as she obviously tried to piece his question and his current paranormal demonstration together. "Unless you were hit with an almost unimaginable amount." The fingers wrapped around Danny's shoulders tensed. She swallowed, her voice thick. "If you were hit with that much, it might not dissipate. It might become self-generating…"

"That's impossible," his dad whispered, shaking his head. "That much energy would be deadly." His eyes suddenly jerked up to Danny's, growing impossibly wide.

"I'm not dead," Danny quickly stressed, finally allowing the supernatural flames flickering around his hand to die and his hand to drop into his lap. "I'm not a ghost." He flinched a little at the half lie, but wrote it off as something that needed to be said at the moment; he needed to get his parents to understand. "I'm just…" Trailing off and shaking his head, he abandoned that train of thought. "What do you think would happen to someone that lived through it?"

Both of his parents were silent for a moment. "According to theory," his father said slowly, "when you have a self-generating mass of energy, it acts almost like a non-sentient ghost; containing all of the abilities of a ghost but not having any sort of consciousness to control them."

Danny waited for them to continue the thought, not yet willing to jump in. They had to be two steps ahead of this discussion already – they might be a bit oblivious, but they were undeniable experts when it came to the paranormal – and his teacher had been right when he said that it would be better for the two of them to figure it out on their own. All he needed to do was hand them enough clues to push them in the right direction.

The waiting, though, was horrible. Sweat was trickling down the back of his neck, his stomach was performing flip flips inside of him, his heart was pounding, and his feet wanted to get up and run away. He wanted his parents to just spit their thoughts out so this whole situation could be over with.

His father sat back in his chair, staring at his son in surprise and, so Danny hoped, understanding. "_If_ you could create a stable mass of energy and attach it to a human form…" the man stopped what he was saying for a moment. Then he took a breath and continued, his voice soft and a little awed, "Ectoplasm reacts to electrical impulses, just like muscles. It'd be controllable."

"So you'd have a human with ghost powers?" Danny asked quietly.

"It's just not possible," his mom said. "You _can't_ fuse a mass of paranormal energy to an organic form without causing so much damage that you'd kill everything first. We went over this years ago when we first created the neural interface for the proto-ectoskelton."

"But we solved that problem." His dad looked up, a small smile on his face and a glitter in his eyes. Danny let a small grin drift onto his face in response. "Organic tissue _can_ withstand small amounts of energy without degrading as long as it's in the right environment and the ectoplasm is filtered correctly. The portal has both of those."

"Enough energy to become stable, though?" His mother shook her head slowly, staring down at the floor. "That might work in a short blast, but the portal stayed on – that intensity of energy for a continued length of time would destroy any organic matter left inside, no matter how filtered the power is." Her eyes narrowed a little as she thought. "It's just not possible."

His father shrugged. "Apparently it is." He was silent, then turned his eyes to Danny. "But why didn't you tell us? We love you no matter what you can do."

Danny swallowed heavily. "I was scared to tell you, at first, because I thought you'd be angry." He had originally thought he'd be babbling by this point, his anxiety to get the situation over with taking over, but now he was having to force every word out of his mouth. "Then I started to get control over it and I figured I could handle it." There was so much more he wanted to explain – about how he knew they would accept him but he never knew what to say, about how he had always wanted them to figure it out without him telling them, about how he really _had _told them a few times but they didn't remember it – but he couldn't get any more words to form.

"Oh, sweetie," his mother murmured, running her fingers through his hair, but her mind was obviously elsewhere, still struggling to make sense of what had happened to him. As far as Danny knew, her logic was perfect; she was just missing the small puzzle piece about Danny's non-organic ghost form and it was throwing her for a loop. His ghost side _was_ able to survive the energy in the portal.

Danny wasn't sure she'd figure it out on her own and, for a moment, he contemplated not telling them. If he just left it like this – them knowing about his ghost powers but not his ghost side – it would be undeniably easier on all of them. They still didn't know that _they_ had done anything that needed to be dealt with and he would have a lot less lying and trouble at home. He would even tell them about ghost hunting and they'd be able to help.

His eyes flickered up to his teacher's and Lancer looked back at him silently. He could still hear what Lancer had told him the first time he'd suggested only telling his parents half the truth. _They're your family, Daniel, they need to know. Besides, they'll figure it out eventually and you'll have to go through this whole this twice._

Dropping his own gaze to the floor, Danny let out a shaky breath. He would have to tell them about Phantom.

"We're a little angry that you didn't tell us," his father was saying, "and I wish you would have trusted us – we could have helped you."

"I know," Danny whispered.

"We're your family. We love you, Danny."

"I know," he said again, just as quietly. After a few seconds of silence, he looked up at his father. The large man was watching him, his face seriously, but his eyes were dancing. "I'm sorry."

"I'm surprised you kept it hidden for so long," his dad said with a grin. "I haven't yet met a Fenton who's good at keeping secrets."

Danny let a small smile drift onto his face. He had been right; his parents – at least his father – had already started to accept this odd facet of his life. He had no doubt that once they got over the strangeness of it, they'd pester him with never-ending lists of questions.

They wouldn't get to do that, though. He still had to yank the rug out from under their feet and completely destroy their neat little world. His father had said it so perfectly: they're his family and they love him.

Only he was really Phantom… and they hated him. And he had to tell them that.

Nervous energy drove him to his feet and he walked over to stand next to his father, his arms crossed over his chest. From here he could see his mom, who was still staring off into the distance, her mind still trying to wrap around the truth. It was obvious that she _knew_ that there was something missing from his explanation; her brain was busy trying to figure out what it could be.

He wanted her to know and he didn't want her to know. He desperately wanted her to figure it out before he told her, and yet he wanted to keep it a secret forever. He wanted his parents to understand who he _really_ was... and at the same time he wanted them never to know the truth.

Slowly, her eyes turned to meet his. Her head tipped to the side a little as she studied him. "What else can you do?" she asked.

"Normal stuff," Danny said, shifting his feet at her steady gaze. "Invisibility, intangibility, flight, control of ectoplasm…" He trailed off before mentioning his ice powers, still dragging his feet to stop from telling them the whole truth. Right now, this was his _family_ - he wanted to keep them just like this for a few more moments. Everything would change once they knew.

"I just don't get it. In order to be able to do those things, you'd _have_ to have a stable mass of energy," his mother said slowly, her head shaking slowly. "But you just _can't_. If it somehow received a consciousness – even a human one – it would also get some sort of form… They go hand in hand. You can't have one without the other."

Danny nodded slowly, his heart beating painfully as his mother's eyes suddenly widened and she stared at him, blood draining from her face. He didn't have a choice in what was about to happen anymore: his mother had finally put together all the clues.

He still hesitated, just for a second. He knew that after they _knew_, they wouldn't look at him and see Danny Fenton anymore. They'd still be his family…

But he was about to lose them. _Think of it like a band-aid. Get it over with fast._

Fighting down a wave of nervous nausea, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and took the plunge.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

The I-am-crap-and-can't-write depression and the I-am-so-busy-that-I-don't-have-time-to-sleep-much-less-write has lifted (slightly) so the _how_-long-has-this-been-sitting-on-my-computer? chapter of this can be posted.

Enjoy.

* * *

**Plunge**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

_-5:29pm_

The stinging sensation of the rings changing his cells from human to ghost was something completely indescribable. He'd tried – and failed – to explain it to Sam and Tucker a dozen times. The terrifying thrill, the painful wonder, the momentary sensation of being something _else_…

It left no doubt in his mind what he'd just done. There was no mistaking the sensation, no uncertainty as to which form he was in, and absolutely no denying the fact that his parents were only a few feet away. Watching. Waiting.

The ghost in Danny's mind stretched out its fingers and curled them around his emotions, blocking them and dulling them. He felt his shoulders relax slightly, the intense nausea in his stomach dying away to a dim roar. Into the silence, Danny took a deep, rasping breath.

He'd done it.

His human emotions battered at the chilly invincibility of his ghost side, demanding attention. Air shakily rushed out his lungs and his eyes flickered open. He was expecting to see the stunned faces of his parents, but instead he was met with a pair of blue eyes barely three inches from his. He gasped, flinching backwards.

"Amazing," came the soft whisper of his father.

Danny blinked a few times, letting air leek slowly and unsteadily out of his lungs. He couldn't tear his eyes off his dad's intense gaze, feeling his shoulders start to creep up towards his ears and his mind unconsciously starting to plan an escape route.

"Danny?" his mom asked, her voice quiet and trembling.

He licked his dry lips and looked away from his father, swallowing heavily and trying for a weak smile when met his mother's gaze. A wave of nausea passed through him at the pale look on her face and he turned his eyes towards at the ground.

Before Danny was ready, his mom was on her feet, reaching out a hand as she moved slowly towards him. When her fingers were inches from his shoulder, Danny shuffled backwards a half-step, his breath catching in his throat. She froze for a long beat, her eyes uncertain, then moved forwards and set her hand on his shoulder.

The silence was nearly unbearable. The slight weight of his mother's hand felt like a ton of bricks pressing down on his shoulder and Danny felt his body attempt to shift away from her. Her other hand came up to perch on his other shoulder, turning him fully to face her.

"Danny?" she breathed again, her eyes wide and her face pale. Her fingers, trembling and hesitant, trailed up his neck, through his white hair, then traced over his face. "Oh my God…"

"I'm Phantom," Danny whispered, his voice barely audible.

Her hands fell away and she took a small step backwards. "Oh, Danny…"

Rubbing his palm against his leg, Danny glanced back towards his father. The large man was staring in Danny's direction, his eyes distant. "Dad?"

"I never thought…" his dad trailed off, then blinked and focused on Danny. "So that's why you…" He tipped his head slightly to the side, his eyes narrowed and thinking, silent.

"You said you weren't dead," his mother whispered into the silence.

Danny flinched and twisted around, gazing at her with wide eyes. "I'm not!" he insisted. "I… I'm not. I'm not a ghost. I'm not dead."

Her eyes flickered over him, roving from head to toe, slowly shaking her head and taking a step away from him. "Danny…"

"I'm not… Mom…" he pleaded, feeling a swell of dread in his chest when she continued to shake her head and back away from him. His fingers clenched into fists and he felt his jaw tighten. "I'm not a ghost. I can look like a ghost, but I'm not a ghost. I'm… I'm like half-a-ghost."

"That's not possible," she said softly. Tears were glittering in her eyes as she took another step backwards. "It's not possible."

"It's is," Danny said firmly, his heart starting to pound in his throat. "Dad? You believe me, right?" He turned to his father, eyes wide and pleading, shooting glances towards his mother to make sure she hadn't bolted from the room.

The large man blinked his eyes and shook his head before his eyes focused on Danny. "I… Danny… don't…" he stumbled.

"I _know_," his mom cut in. "_Nobody_ could have survived that accident, Danny." She looked down at her feet for a second, closing her eyes. When she looked up, her cheeks were wet with tears. "Nobody."

"But-" Danny raised a hand towards her, his mouthing open in as he desperately tried to figure out what to say. None of this was going to plan. They were supposed to believe him, pull him into a hug and tell him it was going to be okay, love him and respect him and _not_ believe that he was the dead ghost of their son.

More tears trickled loose from her eyes and slid down her cheeks. "Stop," she whispered.

"Mom!"

"Stop, Danny," she said sharply. Her arms wrapped tightly around her chest and she turned away. "Please."

"Mrs. Fenton," Mr. Lancer said, speaking up for the first time. He pushed himself out of his chair and took a few steps towards Danny's mother. Danny, having forgotten the teacher was there, flinched. "I've listened to Danny's explanation and I-"

"Are you an expert on ghosts?" she interrupted quietly.

Mr. Lancer hesitated, then shook his head. "No."

She nodded and took a shuddering breath, not turning around to face them. Her head tipped back slightly, almost like she was staring at the ceiling. "Well, I am. I know the facts, Mr. Lancer, and I know the science. It's not possible." Something like a sob slipped from her, her shoulders hitching. "My son is…" She trailed off, hurrying from the room.

"Mom?" Danny stood still, stunned by the sudden absence of his mother. His hands fell to his side, limp and tingling. Horror and terror tangled in his chest. "But…"

In all the other futures, all the other realities, she'd accepted this. She'd believed him. She'd…

"I'll go talk to her," Mr. Lancer said softly. He walked towards the kitchen door she'd just vanished through, stopping just long enough to squeeze Danny's shoulder once. "Give her a few minutes to think it through. She'll come around."

"Okay," Danny managed to whisper, swaying a bit on his feet. "I… I… I guess."

The teacher walked through the door, shutting it softly behind him. Danny stared blankly at it for a long moment, his stomach churning painfully and his heart beating loudly in his ears, before turning back with every intention to slump on the couch and try to pretend the last fifteen minutes hadn't occurred.

He didn't quite make it to the couch.

His father was still standing there, gazing at him, and Danny had completely forgotten he was in the room.

* * *

_-5:36pm_

"I believe you."

Danny blinked in surprise, taking a small step backwards, his eyes widening in surprise. "You do?" he said softly, a tentative smile creeping unconsciously onto his face.

His father nodded.

"Why?" Danny bit off the word almost before it'd made it out of his mouth, mentally attempting to kick himself for asking a question like that.

"You're my son. You're a Fenton." The large man said the words slowly but firmly, the slight frown on his face melting into a smile. He took an unexpected step forwards and pulled Danny into a bone-crushing hug. Danny froze, his body tensing at the sudden contact. "I trust you," the man said, his chest rumbling with the words. "And it kind of makes sense."

Danny relaxed at those words, clenching his fingers tightly in his dad's jumpsuit. "Thanks," he whispered before extracting himself from his father's grip. A wet sensation on his cheeks brought a hand up to brush at tears, his heartbeat slowly settling back to normal.

The chair protested loudly as his father dropped into it. He leaned forwards, setting his arms on his knees, and studied Danny for another long second. Danny swallowed a leftover lump in his throat and ran a hand through his hair, looking out the window. Outside, the sun was shining on a beautiful late afternoon day.

"That's why you've been skipping school and missing curfew and shirking from your chores, huh? You've been ghost hunting?"

Danny nodded, shifting his weight from foot to foot, studying a bird that was fluttering in a tree. "Yeah."

"And the bruises and cuts and things?"

"Most of them." He risked a glance towards his father. The man was still sitting in the chair, apparently listening and accepting what was being said.

"Most of them?" the man repeated. "What are the rest from?"

Danny shrugged, shifting his gaze from the window to the blank TV set. "Guys at school."

"You're still getting pushed around at school?" his father said, startled. "And you're getting hurt? Why didn't you tell us?"

Brilliant green eyes flickered over to glare at his father, a vague scowl on his face. "I can take care of myself."

"Nobody bullies a Fenton," Jack said stubbornly, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing. Danny tensed slightly, ready to defend his actions, but his father sank back into his chair and shook his head. "We can talk about it later, I guess."

Silence. Somewhere in the kitchen, a drawer banged shut and there was the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

"Danny… Phantom," Jack said softly.

Danny smiled vaguely and shrugged, stuffing his clammy hands into the pockets of his jumpsuit. "Not my idea," he said as he rocked back on his heels.

"I captured you once. Almost got a reward for it too."

"Mom caught me," Danny shot back, doing his best to keep his voice light and teasing. "And only because I let her."

His father arched an eyebrow. "I believe you said you'd heard of me and were turning yourself in."

A snort worked its way out of Danny's nose. "Well, I _had_ heard of you. I ate breakfast with you"

"Did I hurt you?"

Danny froze at the pain in his father's voice. His stomach felt like it was dropping towards his toes. For a second there, everything had almost seemed normal again. But it wasn't, not really. Reality had to come crashing back down.

"Danny?"

"No," Danny said sharply, firmly. He cut his hands through the air. "You've never hurt me. I wouldn't have let you."

Jack's blue eyes were uncertain. He looked away, gazing at the kitchen door Maddie had vanished through.

"Actually, you saved me, remember?" Danny continued, putting a smile on his face and taking a stop forwards. "You stepped in front of that hacky-sack and got covered in goo?" He reached out and touched his father's hand. "And you let me go, remember? And you stopped the portal from exploding… that was nice."

"I shrank you."

Danny looked up at the ceiling for a second. "That I didn't appreciate," he said ruefully. "It'd be nice if you didn't do that again."

There were a few beats of silence as Jack stuck out his lower jack and nodded a few times, his eyes focusing on Danny's. "I don't…" he stopped, then shook his head firmly. "I don't like that you kept this a secret. Your mother and I could have really hurt you."

"I…" Danny trailed off, biting his lip, but he forced himself to restart. He'd been over this time after time with Lancer – he could spit it out one more time. "At first, I was scared of what you'd say. I didn't think you'd believe me. That you'd think I was a ghost playing a trick or something."

Danny's gaze locked on his feet, watching one of his boots dig into the carpet. "And you kept taking about tearing me apart molecule by molecule." A trace of sarcasm entered his voice as he said that, an odd little smile appearing on his face. "I didn't want to tell you. At first I thought… I thought it'd be better if you didn't know."

"Dann-o," his father sighed.

The smile on Danny's face flickered bigger at the nickname, some of the knots in his stomach untying themselves. "I started to get control of it. And I got good at it, Dad. I'm a really good ghost hunter." Danny hesitated, bringing his eyes up to stare into his father's. "And then… and then it didn't seem like I had to. That it'd be easier, after all the lies I'd already told you and all the time you'd been hunting me, just for you never to know."

The man nodded slowly.

A cold hand suddenly reached down into Danny's chest and squeezed at his heart, causing his body to convulsively shiver. Danny shook his head and ignored the sensation – now was not the time to be hunting down a ghost. "I wanted to tell you." His father's face was getting blurry from the tears piling up in his eyes. "I always… I really… I just…"

A warm hand touched his chin, then moved to his shoulder to pull Danny into another rough hug. Jack's arms held Danny tight for a long minute.

"I'm sorry," Danny said into his father's shoulder, his entire being behind those two words.

Jack took a breath to answer just as another shiver raced up Danny's spine. "What's-" Jack started to say.

"Isn't this nice…" a haunting voice interrupted, filling the room with its echoing chill.

* * *

_-5:47pm_

The voice was almost tangible. Danny jerked out of his father's grasp, swiping at the burning sensation of cobwebs rapidly tangling around his arms. Pain flared wherever the strands touched, the cut on his arm from the previous night suddenly screaming in agony. He'd never felt anything like it before. "Ghost," he gasped.

"I found you," the voice hissed. "You can't hide from me."

The wispy fibers of noise wrapped around his head and Danny curled up in a ball, brushing futilely at the agonizing strands, noting with a flash of fear that his body was responding more and more slowly to his commands.

"Ghost!" came a shout. The word seemed distant and blurry. Then there was the faint sound of his father demanding, "Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter." A small ghost shimmered into existence, its body standing over Danny. With every word it spoke, long damp strands of its hair tangled around Danny's body and wrapped his brain in a layer of fuzz. "I'm not here for you."

"No," Danny muttered, his mouth barely moving, still struggling to get out of the strange hairs. He recognized the ghost – it was the one from the school last night. But the ghost hadn't done the hair thing before. "I shoulda caught you when I had the chance," he tried to snarl, but the words came out garbled and unintelligible.

Danny blinked painfully and watched his father edge towards the TV, the world starting to swirl and spin. For a moment, he stopped fighting the ghost and let his mind wonder what was on TV to watch tonight. "Who are you here for?" Jack asked, prodding Danny back into movement.

"The half-breed, idiot," the ghost snarled. "He's coming with me."

"He's not going anywhere. Danny? Danny!"

Danny contemplated answering, but his body seemed to suddenly be made of bricks and lead. He sank to the ground, struggling simply to get air in and out of his lungs, fighting off the pain that was still racing through his mind. His chest started to burn, his body shutting down and his mind giving up the fight.

"MADS!" his father shouted.

"Come, half-breed," the ghost of the girl whispered. The cobweb-like hairs tugged on his arms and Danny found himself standing up and moving, confused as to what was going on. "Follow me."

Danny turned his head slightly to gaze at his father, even as his body took a few steps towards the ghost.

"NO!" The man wrenched open a drawer and pulled out an ectoweapon. It whined painfully as it charged up a shot. "That's my son, you dirty ball of goo!"

"Half-breed," the ghost crooned, reaching out one of its child-like hands and wrapping it around Danny's fingers. An intense flare of pain shot up his arm from the cut he'd gotten.

He turned his head to stare blankly at the sting in his arm. The hairs from the ghost's head were curled around his body and seemed to be digging into the cut, finding a way inside of him.

His neck moved without his permission, turning him to face his father. The orange suit was blurry and unfocused, his father's face swimming in his dazed vision. "He'll do anything I say," the ghost chuckled. "Won't you, half-breed?"

"Danny?" The voice was incredibly far away.

Something squirmed in his neck and Danny's eyes flinched closed. His breath caught in his throat as the impossible feeling of needles started to worm their way into his brain.

"See the human, half-breed?"

The pain was so great he didn't really hear the ghost, but he felt his head nod anyways, the things in his head moving and finding their way deeper.

He tried to scream, but the world went dark, the ghost's last two words echoing around in his pain-filled mind.

"Kill it."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

The last two years have been... very rough. I suffer from recurring depression and anxiety. Not the endless abyss of darkness and tiredness like the commercials like to put it, but more like a horrible roller coaster varying between 'getting better' and 'I suck at living' - which is quite depressing in and of itself. Constantly thinking it's over and then finding it all collapsing in on itself again. I'm currently on a rather nice and pleasant upswing, and I'd like to say I'm 'over it'. But I've thought that before, and I'm trying to be cautious.

I _will_ get over this. I've been through these bouts before (happen every seven years: apparently my dopamine levels came with a set of El Nino calendars) and I've always gotten over them. Never taken two _years_ before, but this has been a particularly bad one. I'm thoroughly sick of it and want it over.

I am only able to write on upswings. You can track when I have them by when I update. :)

Just a reminder that I don't like unfinished fics. No promises on how long they'll take to finish, but I do plan on finishing them. All of them.

Thanks to those who kept bugging me to get this updated. And to HaiJu, whose awesome fics got me thinking in DP mode again. Shorter than I wanted, but it gets the concept in and doesn't _need_ to be longer. And if I keep sitting on it, waiting for the mysterious faeries or my nonexistent beta to come and 'fix' it, you might not see an update until Hell sets up an ice cream shop next to the Pearly Gates. :p

A little out of practice and lacking in a beta. I had my shadow read it over for me, but she sucks at remembering the difference between colons and semicolons. Please let me know of any remaining grammar issues, which I shall fix a-sap.

-Cori

* * *

**Plunge**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

_-5:51pm_

There was nothing.

No light.

No sound.

No movement.

It was death, in its own way. The end of existence. Unable to look around at an abyss so dark there should be something, unable to feel the complete lack of cold and warmth and touch, unable to hear the silence scream to the heavens. It was nothing and everything all at once.

Danny wasn't afraid. But then again, there wasn't Danny, not really.

The ghost had Danny. The child-like one with the crazy hair. The one that had tried to take over at school. The one that had succeeded in grabbing him at his parents' house, just as Danny was trying to get his parents to see that he wasn't a ghost. The one that was using his body to do anything and everything it wanted.

Danny might have screamed, if he'd existed enough to scream. He might have fought it, if he'd been aware enough to know what fighting was.

But he didn't. He couldn't.

And that was it.

There was nothing.

* * *

_-8:19pm_

Danny woke on the couch of the living room, disoriented and stiff. There was a thick blanket covering him, warm and heavy, and the feel of someone's hand running through his hair. Slowly, his eyes opened.

The living room looked like a bomb had hit. Charred bits were all that remained of a reclining chair, a fire extinguisher lying next to the still-smoking remnants of the old bookcase. The walls were scuffed and darkened in spots, holes torn in others. Several of the lights were broken and non-functioning, putting strange shadows in the familiar room. The smell of burnt ectoplasm lingered in the air.

His pillow moved. Realizing his head was lying in someone's lap, Danny shifted and tried to sit up. His body protested the movement – as did the person running their fingers through his hair. "Stop moving."

The voice was unmistakable. And, now that his brain was processing what happened, the slight smell of musty greenhouses and flowering lilacs filled his nose. "Sam?" Rolling onto his back, leaving his head in her lap, Danny gazed up at his best friend. "What happened?"

She smiled, just a touch, and picked up a Fenton Thermos. It seemed to glow in the evening light. "Ghost. What else happens to you?" Then her smile faded. "Danny…"

Silence fell. She stared at him.

Memories slotting into place. He stared back at the violet-eyed girl. A broken emptiness passed between them. Her fingers reached forwards and brushed at his hair. It sounded crispy and dirty.

"My parents okay?"

There was a nod. "Tucker and I… the ghost alarm on Tucker's phone went off. We were pretty close by. What do you remember?"

Danny shrugged. His eyes drifted towards the disaster left in the living room, then flickered towards the partly-open kitchen door. Soft voices came from beyond. His eyes closed again. He didn't want to think about it. "There was a ghost. Some little girl with hair. Everything is kind of blank."

"Your mom had the ghost trapped in the corner when we got here. Your dad… he was holding you down. You were screaming at him, fighting him, trying to get away. Tucker sucked the ghost into a Thermos and everything got really quiet." Sam stopped talking. Her fingers stopped moving through his hair.

Danny glanced up at her. "What?"

"Why did you tell them?" Her voice was soft. Barely audible.

Sitting up, ignoring the protesting of his muscles and the tensing of Sam's fingers, Danny stretched his muscles. He focused his attention on his fingernails, noticing that one of them needed to be cut. "It's complicated," he whispered. "I ran out of options."

A hand touched his shoulder and Danny squirmed out from underneath. "Danny." Exasperation colored her voice. "You did the right thing."

Danny glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "You think so?"

She pushed a lock of her frizzy hair behind her ear. A tiny gold earring gleamed and a little smirk settled onto her face. "I know so. You always end up doing the right thing, Danny, even if it doesn't seem like it at the time. It's one of those 'things' I've just gotten used to."

"Lancer knows too."

"Figured, being that he was-" Sam broke off, shaking her head.

"He was what?" Danny glanced towards the kitchen door, then back.

Sam bit her lip and looked away. "Your mom," she hesitated. "After we caught the ghost she kind of spun around and looked ready to attack _you_. Lancer was the one who stepped in front of her."

"She thinks I'm a ghost." It hurt to say.

There was the sound of a chair squeaking in the kitchen, probably having been pushed away from the table quickly. Footsteps. Someone had gotten up, was pacing. Louder voices, but still unintelligible. Danny turned his attention to the door, tensing. Every fiber in his body was focused, expecting the door to move, to swing open, to admit people with questions. With accusations. With demands for answers to questions he couldn't even start to answer.

The door didn't move.

Slowly, Danny's body relaxed. "When did I turn human?"

"You were human when I got here. Did you show… your parents?"

Nodding, Danny finally tore his eyes away from the kitchen door. He turned back to Sam, whose face was a picture of sympathy and worry. Quietly, he reached out and picked up the simmering Thermos. He could feel the ghost curled up inside. Volatile, full of energy, prickling with potential. The sensation against his hands was a distraction from the curling in his stomach. "They all in there?" The thought of what was in the kitchen, waiting, made his eyes burn.

"Yep." Silence. "You going to go talk to them?"

A swirl of energy scrambled up his arm, making the muscles in his shoulder twitch. The energy inside of Danny's body responded, reaching upwards with a chilling sensation that sent a shiver down his back. The increase of energy in his body called to the ghost in the Thermos – a quiet cycle of building power that thrummed in Danny's mind.

"Danny?"

The Thermos was taken from his hands. Danny glanced up at his best friend. His eyes blinked a few times as his brain focused back on what was going on around him.

"I think you need to talk to them," Sam said softly, cradling the Thermos in an elbow.

Danny looked towards the kitchen door again. It was simple and brown. Light gleamed around the edge, casting a strange L-shaped glow on the floor. His stomach clenched. His leg bounced up and down. His fingers tapped and tapped and tapped against his knee.

"Danny."

A hand grabbed his moving fingers, warm and soft, and pulled. Danny followed the hand, gliding to his feet. Sam's body was against his side, holding him up while his protesting muscles adjusted to the idea of standing. Danny glanced back at the couch, at the messy folds of the thick quilt someone – probably Sam – had dug out of a closet. He wanted to sit back down, to bury his head in a pillow, to ignore the kitchen.

But Sam's hand was tight around his and her forward movement was endless and persistent. His feet shuffled, shifted, and then moved to follow. Sam pushed against the kitchen door, pulling them onto the old linoleum.

Silence.

* * *

_-8:42pm_

Four people sat at the kitchen table, their attention momentarily focused on the two newcomers. Danny's father had his arm around his wife's shoulders, holding her close. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest; a blank look on her face as she sat slumped in a chair against her husband. Lancer was leaning forwards, his arms crossed and limp on the table, sitting next to the only teenager at the table. Tucker's eyes were red, his lower lip tucked between his teeth, not willing to look up.

"Danny," his father welcomed, his voice soft and cracked. A dark bruise was blossoming under one of the large man's eyes, scratches and scrapes along his arms. The curiosity, the interest, that had sparkled in his gaze was gone. It had been replaced by an empty deadness. "Feeling better?"

His mother shifted. Her eyes were dark. Her arms tensed, fingers digging into her arms.

Danny stared at his father. His eyes couldn't seem to stop tracing over the cuts and specks of blood. He didn't remember – the ghost made sure of that – but Danny knew. He _knew_ who had caused all that.

The knowledge hurt. It made his heart feel like it was being squeezed in a vice. His body moved, trying to back up, trying to get away from the sight of what he'd done.

"Danny, come sit down." It was Lancer. His voice calm and commanding, but with a stressed tone. Obviously the person who was trying to keep a lid on a tense situation.

Danny's eyes flicked over to Tucker. The teen's shoulders were curled forwards, a broken expression in his eyes. Danny could picture what had happened so easily in his head. Hours of sitting at the kitchen table with his parents, fielding questions, struggling with demanding accusations of wrong-doing.

It should have been Danny sitting there. Not Tucker.

Tucker didn't deserve this.

Danny knew what he should do. He should stalk over there, push Tucker out of the chair, and insist that his parents ask _him_ the questions. Let Tucker go home, or at least let him out of the spotlight. None of this was Tucker's fault.

But Danny couldn't move. His feet felt glued to the floor. The muscles in his stomach and back seemed to be trembling, creating a strange sensation of standing on a waterbed. The shaky feeling spread to his arms and legs.

His mother's night-shaded eyes fixed on his and the floor felt like it was giving way.

Sam pushed at his shoulder, but Danny pushed back. Lancer rose out of his chair – probably to come escort him to a chair. His father's shoulders squared, the rare look of parental authority sparking in his face.

It was all too much. Danny hadn't wanted to do this in the first place, not really. He firmly believed his life was better with his parents in the dark about the whole ghost thing.

He'd screwed up with Lancer, letting the teacher know his secret. He'd allowed the man to logic him into telling his parents. He'd _told _his parents, only it hadn't gone at all right. His mother was staring at him like death warmed over and his father had been attacked. The ghost…

"Danny, don't!"

Sam's voice was distant, a scream at the empty air. Because Danny couldn't take it anymore. Because he was already gone.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry this took longer than originally expected, the chapter ended up being longer than originally expected. By alot. Like, almost double._

_But I like it. So it's long. Live with it. I do._

_-Cori_

* * *

**Plunge**  
A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

* * *

_-1:02am_

October wasn't the best time of the year to spend the night in the park under a tree. Danny didn't really feel the cold – not anymore – and he'd just decided that it wouldn't be so bad when it started to rain. The steady beat of water on his head had nearly driven Danny from the park. Eventually the pouring rain tapered off to a drizzle, but the lingering wetness plastered his hair to the side of his face.

His nose was plugged and stuffy. His eyes felt like they were dry and covered in sandpaper. His cheek was raw from the number of times he'd swiped at falling tears. His back was sore from pressing up against the rough bark of the tree.

At least he could breathe again. And his heart wasn't pounding in his ears. He'd probably notice if a ghost stood beside him now. Nightmare scenarios involving his parents abandoning him, dissecting him, getting hurt because of him, the world blowing up now that they know… They had all finally stopped fluttering through his mind.

Logic was coming back into play. The world still might end up blowing up – he _was_ Phantom after all – but the odds of it being caused by telling three people his secret was slim.

…as long as Vlad never found out about this. Then all bets were off.

Really, in the grand scheme of things, nothing much had changed. The logical side of Danny's mind kept repeating that sentence, but he couldn't find the heart to accept it.

Curling his arms around his knees, pulling his legs close to his chest, Danny glared out into the darkness. A rather large piece of his chest was throbbing in painful humiliation – him, Danny Fenton, _hero_ of Amity Park, had just suffered through a rather extreme panic attack. The rest of him hurt too much to care what other people thought.

A large raindrop plopped onto his head and rolled down his cheek. Danny brushed at it absently, watching cars pass by on the road. There weren't many cars out at this time of the morning. It had always been Danny's favorite time to go on patrol. His decidedly ghostly ability to see in the dark was ruined by bright headlights. Quiet, empty, and dark.

One car slowed as it approached the gate to the park and Danny felt his heart thumping in his chest. Jazz?

His sister had an almost unearthly ability to find him when the world was turning upside down. She had a scary sense of logic, a quiet calm in storms. He had no doubt that if only Jazz were here, everything would end up being alright. Not back to normal – that couldn't be possible – but at least 'okay' again.

The car sped up and vanished down the street. Danny let his forehead drop to his knees. "I wish…" He sighed, cutting off the dangerous words. There was no telling who was around to twist even the most well-intentioned wish into Hell on Earth. If not Desirae, then some other well-meaning, but horribly misinformed person.

"Daniel."

Danny let out a huge breath; speak of the Devil and he shall appear. He looked up into the concerned eyes of his teacher. "What?" He flinched at the hoarse, horrible sound of his voice.

Lancer glanced down at the muddy ground, seeming to contemplate sitting, before crouching in front of Danny's curled-up form. "Your sister gave me a clue where to find you."

Eyes narrowing, Danny pushed himself to his feet. After spending hours curled up into a little ball, his still-hurting body loudly protested the sudden movement. Clenching his teeth, Danny growled, "Why are _you_ here?"

"It didn't go well," the teacher said softly, not moving from his crouched position.

Danny stalked a few feet away, resting against the other side of the tree. "You think?" Curling his hand into his hair, Danny stared off into the darkness. "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell them," he whispered.

"So what's your plan now?"

Lonely lights glittered here and there from the buildings around Amity Park. Late-night owls, insomniacs, graveyard shift workers. Danny let his gaze shift from one to the other, his mind quietly filling in possible reasons why other people in the universe would be up in the middle of the night. Certainly he had a unique excuse. "I dunno."

There was a tisking sound. "It sounds like you have two options. One is to go back and talk to them. The other's not to go back. They're not hard options to chose between."

"I know." Danny rubbed a hand over his face. "I know. I just… I can't go back."

"Why not?" Lancer's voice was quiet in the dark.

"Didn't you see the looks on their faces?" Danny felt his body tensing, remembering the few moments when he'd come face-to-face with his parents. He could feel his heart beating faster, his breathing catch, just at the _thought_ of what had happened. "I'm not… who I was. Not to them. Not anymore."

Lancer made a half-cough sound in the back of his throat. "I think it'll be okay-"

"What?" Danny interrupted, spinning around on his heel. His eyes burned, shadows jumping into sharp relief as supernatural power swirled around him. Body tensing, Danny practically vibrated with pent-up energy. "How can this be _okay_?! My mom thinks I'm _dead_. I _attacked_ my dad. I _abandoned _my best friends to… whatever! I-"

"I, I, I, I, I," Lancer mocked. The teacher looked very pale in the dark of the night, but gazed unwaveringly into Danny's eyes. "What about everyone else?"

Mouth snapping closed, Danny glared at the slightly overweight teacher. "What about them?"

"Yeah, what about _them_." Lancer got to his feet, brushing at his pants. "They're just your family and friends." A roll of thunder curled through the momentary silence. "You'll be perfectly fine without _them_."

Danny let out a shaky breath. Energy dissipated into the air, leaving him feeling cold and alone. His arms crept around his chest and he hugged himself tightly. Sharp, painful memories sliced through his mind of what happened the last time he was left alone. Explosions. Death. Insanity.

Quite suddenly, Danny found himself chuckling – it wasn't a happy sound, however. Shaking his head sourly, Danny sank back down to the ground, ignoring the newest layer of mud on his clouds, refusing to look his teacher in the eyes. "You realize it was your fault last time too."

"I wasn't aware," Lancer said softly. There was a quiet few minutes of silence as rain started to patter down once more. The sound of the rain against the tree leaves gave the world a syncopated beat. "I _am_ sorry, Danny, that it went so badly. But I'm not sorry that I made you tell them."

Danny listened to the rain, his mind creating endless patterns out of the sound of the drops in the dying October leaves. A roll of far-away thunder growled through the city. Another storm was approaching. It fit his feelings perfectly: it was the lull between the storms.

"What do you think I should do?" Danny's gaze drifted back to the road where another lonely car passed alongside the park. This one slowed to a stop at the gate, idling in place.

"I think you need to give your family a chance."

Unable to comprehend the idea of walking up to his family and talking to them after everything that had happened, Danny just mutely shook his head. His fingers started to quietly tap the side of his arm in time to the raindrops.

"So you're going to run away?"

Someone stepped out of the car beside the road, an umbrella unfolded overhead. Even with his better eyesight, Danny couldn't make out who it was. The person walked around the car and strolled into the park entrance. Finally, Danny shook his head again.

Running away wasn't much of an option.

"Your parents sent me home," Lancer continued quietly, "but I wanted to stop and check in on you before I left." Silence. "I've got to call and tell them you're here." More silence. "Daniel…"

The person at the gate entrance lifted the umbrella enough for Danny to realize it wasn't his sister or either parent. Or Sam or Tucker. Or even Valerie. Heart sinking slightly, Danny let out a low breath. "I'm gonna head home."

"You want a ride?" Danny could hear the doubt in Lancer's voice. The teacher probably wanted to make sure Danny made it without 'getting lost'.

With a shake of his head, Danny lurched to his feet and glanced at his teacher. The man was hunched in his jacket, hands pushed into pockets, trying to hide from the rain. Danny couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of joy at the man's discomfort. "I'll be fine. I know how to get home in the dark."

"I'm sure you do," Lancer said softly. "I'll call and tell them you're on your way."

"Don't trust me?"

Lancer's mouth quirked into a smile. "I trust you, Danny, more than you could possibly realize. But I also trust that you'll manage to get home sometime next week without encouragement."

"Fine, whatever." Danny looked away with a dark sigh.

A hand curled around Danny's shoulder, squeezing for a second. "It'll be okay, Mr. Fenton. I promise. And – if for some reason I'm wrong – there's always a guest room at my house you can borrow."

"Yeah," Danny whispered. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now go home." Lancer's hand disappeared as the man walked towards the park entrance and the lady under the umbrella.

"You're weird, you know?" Danny called after him. Lancer stopped and glanced back. "I still can't decide if I should hate you or not for all this. You just… you don't act right."

Lancer's mouth turned up into a small smile. "I'll take that as a compliment. Good night, Mr. Fenton."

Danny shook his head. "Good night," he said softly. He stood under the tree, waiting until Lancer was greeted by umbrella-lady and escorted to the car for a ride home. The headlights flared into being and the car purred up the street, leaving the park dark and lonely.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Danny started a slow walk towards home. Cold rain pelted from the sky, dribbling cold rivers down every bit of Danny's body. Wet, dead leaves slopped around underfoot. Lightning flared now-and-then, followed by low rolls of thunder and sharp thunderclaps.

It was almost an hour before Danny got up the nerve to actually leave the park.

* * *

_-3:14am_

Danny felt like Clockwork was offering him some sort of freaky do-over. With the notable exceptions of the rain, the time of night, and the lack of a teacher over his shoulder, Danny could have sworn that he'd just been in this situation not ten hours earlier. He stood at the very edge of his parents' property, on the sidewalk, staring up at the brick façade.

Lights were on inside. Beyond the curtains, he could see movement. There were people in there. Waiting for him?

His fingers wound into the bottom of his soaked shirt, his tongue felt like it was the size of an elephant. His feet shuffled on the sidewalk, almost like they were daring each other to take the first step. Lancer had pushed him before – now he'd have to do this walk by himself.

Slowly, each step feeling like he was walking through thick goo, Danny paced towards the front door. The sidewalk wasn't long… it usually only took a few steps to cover, then a jump up the small set of concrete steps. This time, it felt like an eternity. Step after step after step, walking endlessly into a pit he might never be able to escape.

His heart was pounding loudly in his ears when he stepped up the last step to stare at the brown front door. Emotions were sizzling through him, too intense to pick apart. His eyes stung from the rain and tears that were threatening to fall again. Unbidden memories jumped to the front of his mind, treating him to visions of his parents throwing him from the house, experimenting on him, even turning him over to the government.

"Think of it like a band-aid," Danny whispered, thinking back to what his teacher had said.

His fingers shook as they slowly reached up. The doorbell was round and solid under his finger. It took a second for him to actually push against it.

"You'll be fine," he whispered.

His hands came back to rub at his arms, fingers curling around the edges of his shirt as the doorbell echoed through the house. Someone moved inside, the silhouette coming ever closer. Footsteps.

"Don't go invisible, don't go invisible," Danny muttered under his breath as the lock clicked and the doorknob turned. A crack of light shone through, hesitated, then the door flew open.

Danny's heart stopped.

It was his mother. She was still wearing the blue jumpsuit from earlier, her hair messy and her eyes red. Her gaze flickered down to Danny's feet, then back up to his eyes. "Danny," she said very softly. There was something in her eyes. Wetness glistened in the corners.

"Mom." Danny shuffled from foot to foot, arms tight against his chest, uncomfortable. "Can we try this again?"

After a horribly long moment of silence, his mother nodded. Ever so slowly, she reached out and pushed a lock of soaking wet hair out of Danny's eyes. "You're all wet."

Maybe it wasn't the embracing hug he would have normally gotten, but it was like the world restarted with that little touch. There was uncertainty to it, fear and regret and pain, but at least it _was_. It was a start of something. Danny felt his heart restart, his breath not catch so hard in his throat.

Maybe Lancer was right. Maybe it would be okay. Somehow. Someday.

"It's raining," Danny managed to say around the lump in his throat as a grumble of thunder rolled through the area. He watched his mother glance over his shoulder at the downpour, saw her eyes linger on the rivers washing down the sides of the streets.

Her eyes came back to his. Darkness still lingered in them. Confusion. Hurt. Grief. "Go get dried off, then we'll talk, okay?" she said softly.

Danny nodded, feeling the water squelching between his toes. "Sorry I ran away," he murmured. "Bad plan." His shoulders started to creep up around his ears as his mother gazed at him.

The smallest of smiles. "Go get dried off," she repeated, a little more firmly.

Returning the tiny smile with one of his own, Danny kicked off his shoes, left them out in the rain, and slipped past his mother into the house. He glanced over into the living room, noticing his sister and father sitting on the couch watching him, and headed up the stairs. Water dripped and pooled behind him.

Grabbing a change of clothes, Danny headed to the bathroom. His clothes made a wet pile in the tub as he dried off, then pulled on the warmer, dry shirt and pants. Running a comb through his hair to get rid of the worst of the mess, Danny stared at himself in the mirror.

He couldn't begin to know what his parents saw when they looked at him. Always before, they had seen a normal teenage boy. Now… now would they begin to see the truth about him? Would they see some sort of monster, some sort of half-ghost _thing_ to be feared and pitied?

Green crept into his eyes, glowing and shifting like the mists of the ghost zone. The color gave a strange pallor to his face, making him look partially dead. Eerie. Creepy.

A huge clap of thunder made the house shudder and the lights flicker. Danny glanced around, startled, his heart beating quickly in his chest. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Gazing into his own eyes, Danny said, "You can't put this off any longer. Get downstairs."

The bathroom door creaked. The stairs groaned when he stepped on them. The third-to-the-bottom step made a cracking noise. His feet made little sounds on the carpet as he slowly paced into the living room.

His mother was sitting on the couch, just as she'd done ten hours earlier. His father was back in his recliner, Jazz in the chair Lancer had vacated. It was like time had been rewound, reset, and it was time for a redo.

His heart beat in time with his footsteps, painfully loud in his ears. His breath was fighting its was in and out of his lungs. His hands were starting to shake again, filled with nervous energy.

"Danny," his father rumbled. There was concern in his voice. The black eye was worse than before, the scratches red and swollen. The man looked like he'd been on the wrong side of a bar fight.

Danny stopped and gazed at him, but when nothing more came, Danny slid over to the couch and sat down next to his mother. He was careful not to touch her, not to sit too close. Shoulders tense and hunched over, he couldn't relax against the cushions like he usually did.

His eyes flickered over to Jazz. She smiled calmly at him. "Why don't you try starting at the beginning again."

His parents nodded in agreement.

Danny nodded too, slower, less certain, his gaze training down on his fingers. They were moving, roaming, unable to sit still. "I got caught the portal when I was fourteen," Danny said, his voice not as strong as he wanted it to be, "and it did something to me. I never told you."

"Why not?" His father, again with that strange concern-laced curiosity.

His finger flicked at a fingernail. "At first, because I was afraid of what you'd say. Then, I just didn't have to. I had it figured out. After awhile, it was just too big. I didn't even know where to start."

"You realize how dangerous that decision was?" His mother's voice, calm and quiet.

Nodding, Danny entwined his fingers. "I guess."

"You guess." There was a flatness to his mother's tone that caused Danny to glance at her. "You _guess_. Danny, you're much smarter than that. Come up with a better explanation."

At the slight rebuke, Danny felt a flush of impatience. "Didn't Tucker tell you all of this?"

"_Tucker_ is not my son," his mother replied firmly.

Danny flinched back from that. "True," he whispered. When no further encouragement seemed to be coming, Danny let out a slow breath. "Maybe it was more dangerous to tell you than to not." He couldn't take his eyes off his fingers.

"Explain that."

Danny couldn't – not without unraveling a whole lot more of the past year than he'd ever planned to. His parents weren't going to find out about Vlad. Or the bounty on his head from the Ghost Zone. Or Valerie. Slowly, Danny shook his head.

A hand went over his. The fingers were broad and thick and powerful, scarred with years of equipment malfunctions. "You think it's still too dangerous."

Danny sat silent for a moment, but then nodded once, unable to come up with a better explanation. That _was_ at the root of the problem; the more his parents knew, the more danger they were in.

"Tucker explained a lot of things," his mother said. "A lot of things we don't understand. A lot of things we can't even begin to imagine. I…"

Danny closed his eyes when his mother trailed off into silence.

"Danny, I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier." She didn't reach forwards to touch him. "I… still don't understand what's happened to you. I can't wrap my mind around why you'd hide this from us." His father's warm fingers curled around Danny's, holding tightly. "I need _something_, Danny. Please."

Danny just continued to sit there, eyes closed, trying to figure out what he could say. "I'm not dead," he finally said. "I'm not a ghost or something."

"We know." His father pushed him a bit, shooing Danny to the middle of the couch, then settled next to him. The one hand didn't let go of Danny's fingers. The other arm wrapped firmly around his shoulders. Danny could feel the bulk of his father beside him, his mother still perched out of reach. "How about you explain the ghost."

Licking his lips, Danny let his eyes open. He couldn't get the courage to look up. "She was bugging me at school yesterday." His eyes flickered to the clock. "Or, well, the day before, I guess…" There was a beat of silence. "Never seen her before, don't even know what her name is. Got a killer scream though. And apparently the ability to take people over." Danny felt a shudder race through his body. Emotions scrabbled to take hold, but Danny shoved them back down. He had enough to deal with right now.

"Why was she at the school?"

"Probably because I was there. She was going on and on about finding the right servants and taking over the world. You know, normal crazy ghost stuff." Danny flicked a glance at his father's face. The man was focused on him, curious and listening. Danny traced over the scratches before wrenching his gaze away. "She left after I… _explained_… that I wasn't interested in helping." Danny sighed. "Followed me here. You know how that went."

The smallest of touches on his arm. Danny glanced down at his mother's slim fingers, then up into her face. "How much do you remember?"

"After she took over?" Danny asked. When his mother nodded, Danny shook his head. "Nothing. One second there's this ghost here and the next I'm waking up on the couch."

"Has that ever happened before?"

Danny was quiet, then shrugged, looking away. "Kinda. It's the first time I've never remembered anything."

His mother's lips thinned into a line. "And you're _okay_ with this?" There was disbelief and pain in her voice.

"No." Danny's voice was short and sharp. His whole body shuddered at the idea of being okay with it. "Never. But it's not like I'm given a lot of choice."

"You could have talked to us. We could have helped."

Having talked himself around in a circle, Danny sighed and shook his head. "I couldn't…"

Silence fell. Rain pattered against the windows. A grumble of thunder echoed outside. Someone let out a breath.

"Mr. Lancer," his mother said, "says that you're in over your head. That you don't know what to think anymore. That you're not able to make the right decisions. That there are people out there controlling you, in a way, keeping you from choosing other options."

Danny closed his eyes.

"He said he's afraid you've been hurt. That someone's really hurt you. Experiments."

Danny shivered despite the warmth of the room and attempted to stand up. His father kept his arm firmly in place around Danny's shoulders. The man's grip tightened, pulling Danny close.

"He explained to us that you're… different… depending on who you're around. That nobody knows who the 'real' you is, and he's worried about the _real_ you. He's worried that you're scared and lost and confused and have no idea what to do next."

Shifting, Danny pulled his hands out of his father's grip, but didn't try to stand up again. He ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a shaky breath.

"Danny." There, finally, she reached out and grabbed his hands, holding them still. Her fingers were cold and trembling. "Danny look at me."

Danny slowly looked up. Her eyes were rimmed with a new redness. He could see trails from tears leaking down her face. Tears that had been silently shed while talking to him. He felt his heart crack.

"I'm sorry, Danny, for the way I acted. I was confused and scared. I still don't understand, but I _do_ know that you're my son. That I love you very much. And that you need help."

Danny shook his head. "I don't need-"

She gave a little laugh, a little shake of her head. "See? You're _sixteen_, Danny. You've been experimented on, manipulated by people, controlled, stalked and hunted by God-knows-who else. You realize that's not _normal_, right?"

"I know," Danny whispered. "But-"

"But nothing, Danno," his father rumbled. His voice vibrated in Danny's chest. "You're a teenager. We're your parents."

Danny stayed silent this time, not sure what to think. He couldn't really tell them anything - not and keep them safe and sane. He knew that, deep down inside his heat. But at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder what life would be like if they knew...

His mother reached forwards and touched his cheek. Strangely, her hand came away from his face wet with tears. "It hurts that you've hid this from us, but I've got to believe you had a reason. It scares me to think that what happened to you that would cause that. It's agonizing to remember some of the things we…" she railed off, shaking her head. "But all that aside, Danny…"

The hand came back, touched his chin, forced him to look up at her. Danny gazed at her nose, unable to meet her eyes.

"I'm terrified to think I might not know you anymore." Her voice was soft and broken. "I _want_ to. I want to very, very much. I need to know who my son is."

Danny found his gaze wandering to his sister, forgotten in her chair across the room, watching with wide eyes. She noted his gaze and smiled, nodding to him.

Danny glanced up at the open, calm face of his father before jumping back to his mother's eyes. "Nothing will ever be the same," he breathed, a last ditch attempt to talk her out of what she was asking.

"That's life," she said softly, holding onto his hands tightly. "Only ghosts get to keep things the same. Danny. Please."

His father's arm was warm and solid around him. His mother's hand were cool and nervous, shaking and fidgeting. His sister was a calm corner of the room, watching and waiting.

His eyes started to burn as power built up in them. He was careful to keep the energy contained to his body, to keep it from hurting his parents. It sizzled under his skin.

It was the endless power of life and death. It hummed and sang to a tune all its own – intoxicating, seductive, deadly. It was to be loved and hated, feared and conquered, both master and servant to those who touched it. All of eternity stretched before it, timeless and effortless.

Someone – perhaps two someones – caught their breath when Danny's eyes started to glow. Their fingers tensed as he slowly let down the walls he'd built – the Son and the Hero and the Loser. Until it was just him.

Just Danny. Nothing more, nothing less.

Only he wasn't alone this time as he threw himself off the cliff into the future, nervously taking the plunge.

_The End.  
_

_...I think...  
_

* * *

_Thanks for all the awesome response to this story. I know it took a long time to write four chapters, but I appreciate a lot of you sticking with it, and the new people for joining. I do plan on finishing all (or at least most) of my stories in the near future, perhaps start some more.  
_

_When I originally planned out this plot, it came in four sets of four chapters. When my life fell apart two-ish years ago, I kept looking at the story, planning on finishing at least this one. Now I'm contemplating finishing the whole series, as I do like this universe and these last two chapters came out relatively smoothly. The next four chapters would come from the mom's point of view, cover rest of Sunday and into Monday. Dunno when/if I'll start, though. We'll see what life brings. You'll have to chime in your opinion, if you feel so inclined.  
_

_All you awesome people rock, simply for reading my work. People that have reviewed rock even more. I love reading my emails in the morning before I drag myself off to work. They always make my day so much better.  
_

_Thank you, thank you, thank you! See ya'll on the flip-side.  
_

_-Cori  
_


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